It was His Idea!

On my way home from work this afternoon I made up my mind to go to either my Praise Moves or Zumba class.  I had left work on time so there was plenty of time to make dinner for my family before hopping back in the car.

When I walked in the front door, I found my son sitting at his desk finishing his homework.  He'd been hard at work since he got home from school, he said, which had been nearly two hours before my arrival.  As I was putting dinner in the oven, he came out of his room and plopped down on the couch.  He grabbed his video game controller and fired up a game of football.

If I leave, I thought, he is going to sit here all night playing game after game until he heads to bed.

"Hey J," I called into the Family Room.  "Want to go out and catch ball after we eat?"

"Sure Mom!"

After dinner we went outside to toss the football.

"Want to try one of the reps we did at my Muscle Monday class?"

Eye rolling.

"Come on.  It will be fun!" I said walking to edge of the backyard.  He reluctantly followed me.

"We'll do three burpees and then lunge walk to the other side of the yard.  Three burpees and lunge walk back.  We'll do that twice.  Go!"

We finished our reps and returned to tossing the football while chatting.

"Want to try one of the warm-ups from my tennis camp?"  my son asked out of the blue.

My inner response: Are you kidding?!?!?  YES!!  I'd LOVE to!!  Let's go!!  Whoop!  Whoop!  {jumping up and down while rapidly clapping}

My outer response: Sure.

"Run down and back across the yard.  Do three push-ups.  Run down and back.  Two push-ups.  Run down and back.  One push-up.  Run down and back."

After completing the warm-up and catching our breath, we returned to tossing the football.

Walking to the far side of our yard, my son spoke up again.  "Let's try this.  If I get the football into the hoop, we head inside.  If I miss, we do another one of your reps."

Sounded good to me!  It was a crazy shot that I didn't think he would make . . . ever!

He missed his first shot.
We did 10 squats and one suicide.

He missed his second shot.
We did 12 split squats per leg and 12 calf raises.

He missed his third shot.
We ran another suicide.

He missed his fourth shot.
We did a 30-second plank.

He made his fifth shot!

We headed inside - sweaty, covered in grass and laughing!  What made the night so great for me was that even though I  got the ball rolling, my son ran with it.  It was his idea to keep going with the reps and to add in the crazy football hoop throw.

This is one of those nights for me to reflect back on when I think that my desire for our family be healthy is falling on deaf ears.  When I'm feeling frustrated that change is not happening fast enough.  A moment in time to acknowledge that my kids are listening and grasping the concept that being active is fun and not a chore.  My plan is working!

Photo Credit - Ellie Jenkins

 

Encouragement from a Dusty Old Hymnal

When my husband and I bought our first house fifteen years ago, my parents quickly hired a moving company to bring me my piano (more out of their desire to get it out of their house than my desire to have it in mine!).  Since then we've moved the piano four times.  Every time, my husband asked if we could sell it and every time I adamantly said no.  Fingers rarely graced those keys until our daughter began taking piano lessons two years ago. 

This past weekend my level of stress and worry were so great that I wished I could just disappear (no judging - you know you've had those moments!).  It is impossible to be prepared for how much fear and anxiety comes with being a parent.  And when I got married being a caregiver at the age of 40 was not in  the plans.  Work . . . money . . . house repairs . . . check engine lights . . . it felt like the list of worries was never-ending.  The weight of sadness made me so tired it took all my energy to not crawl back into bed.  At the same time the jitters of anxiety made it impossible to sit still.  I found myself sorting through bins in our overstuffed garage.  In one bin filled with random items of mine, I found an old Presbyterian hymn book given to me by my grandma. 

Wandering up to my beloved out-of-tune piano, I began to leaf through the book pausing to peck away at the keys when I came across a more familiar tune.  I eventually came to one of my all-time favorites - He Leadeth Me.  I propped the book on the piano and began to play.

As I finished the song, I noticed the hymn on the next page.  It was one I did not recall ever having seen or heard before -- Far Off I See the Goal. 

Far off I see the goal - O Savior guide me;

I feel my strength is small - Be thou beside me;

With vision ever clear, with love that conquers fear,

And grace to persevere, O Lord provide me.

 

I set personal goals for all areas of my life - my kids, my house, my job, my health . . .  In this moment, though, my goals felt impossible.  It was too much.  Too hard.  Too overwhelming.  

 

I found comfort in this old hymn written back in 1925.  My goals felt extremely far off, but I could still SEE them.  They hadn't disappeared.  I hadn't given up on them.  And who is there to walk beside me and guide me?  My Savior.  How encouraging! 

 

Should earthly pleasures wane, and joy forsake me,

and lonely hours of pain at length o'er take me,

My hand in thine hold fast, till sorrow be o'er the past. 

 

Finding this prayerful hymn of guidance was just what I needed to regain my focus and be ready to jump back into life.  The moment of sorrow has passed . . . Let's go!